


Dissipating Smoke

by lumbeam



Series: The Journey Itself Is Home [3]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Shotgunning, Sloppy Makeouts, Smoking, vague vandermatthews if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-31 01:42:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21038519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumbeam/pseuds/lumbeam
Summary: After selling the moonshine back to the people of Rhodes, Arthur finds Charles standing watch. He seizes the opportunity to have some alone time.But they're not alone.





	Dissipating Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> uh oh, it's me! back at it again. titles/descriptions are tough
> 
> anyway, this is a little respite of some make-outs and fluff before i write about the events after That One Mission That Doesn't Have To Be Named (i love barely paying attention to the order of which missions happen!!!!!!!) 
> 
> enjoy! :)

Arthur didn’t return until late that night. Selling moonshine back to the lovely people of Rhodes was a busy time. Especially when he had to dress up as Fenton, due to Hosea’s urging. As soon as the law came to bust up the show, he spit out the corncob pipe and scrambled to get his gun. By the time the excitement had settled down and he and Hosea made it back to camp, he smelled of sweat, cigarettes and gunpowder. Most of the scents on his clothes weren’t his. 

“That went well,” Arthur grumbled as soon as they rode away from the law.    
  
“You can say that again,” Hosea smirked. “Although the law certainly got there pretty quickly, didn’t they?”

“You think we were set up?”

Hosea shrugged, casting a look behind him just in case. “Maybe the Greys aren’t as wrapped up in Dutch’s routine than he thinks they are.”

“Mm, maybe not.” As they approached the camp’s entrance, Arthur saw Charles standing out front. 

“Who’s there!” He called out. 

“Just me and Arthur, Mr. Smith!” Hosea responded. 

Charles watched the two of them ride by. “Nice to see you survived the all the moonshine.”

“None for us,” Hosea said, “We were all business!”

The two of them dismounted. Arthur stretched his arms up, groaning. “Pleasure doin’ business with ya,  _ Melvin _ .”

Hosea laughed a little. “The same to you,  _ Fenton _ .” 

Arthur grumbled, but still smirked. Camp was pretty quiet. Even Reverend Swanson was snoozing, cradling a bottle of booze as if it were a doll. 

Dutch’s tent was closed, but Arthur could see his silhouette through the dim candlelight from his desk. He was either writing or reading. No matter what he was doing, Arthur decided it was best to leave him to it. 

As he got back to his cot, he made the mistake of smelling his clothes. He coughed at the stench, going out to grab a clean union suit as well as a bar of soap off his nightstand. The swampy temperatures of Rhodes had not treated him kindly thus far. He felt like he needed to take two baths a day to counteract the sweat.

He crept down to the lapping shoreline, a washrag slung over his shoulder. For once, he didn’t feel the need to go far from camp, seeing as everyone was either asleep or on watch.

Well, at least  _ Charles _ was on watch. 

He unbuttoned his clothes, still slightly damp with sweat, and dipped his toes into the water. It was still colder than he’d like, so he only splashed as much as he needed onto his skin. He scrubbed his skin with the soap wrapped in the rag, trying to get cleaned off. He did a quick and final dunk, nearly shivering at the immersion. He shook himself off like a dog, towels be damned, then stepped into his clean underwear, buttoning it up halfway up his chest. 

Barefoot, he walked to the entrance of the camp.

\--

Charles was starting to doze off, his gun feeling heavy in his hands. It was about two a.m., or at least that’s what he thought he saw when he checked his watch. His eyes had a hard time focusing. His body had gotten used to the sleep schedule set by the trip. Flirting with sleep, he rested his head against the tree.

“Hey Charles,” he heard Arthur’s voice greet. He snapped to attention, trying to shake the sleep out of his limbs. Arthur was standing in front of him, not close enough for it to be considered anything but friendly. An unlit cigarette was hanging out of his mouth. “You gettin’ sleepy?”

Shaking his head, he said, “I’ll be fine. I’ll be here ‘til six.”

Arthur, feeling a bit daring, stepped a little closer. “Well, maybe I can help you keep you awake.”

Charles swallowed, feeling more awake than he had all night. “Is that so?”

Arthur reached out to the side of Charles, striking a match on the bark of the tree. The orange glow of the match lit up his features. “Only  _ if _ you want me to.” He exhaled, the cigarette still in his mouth. He moved tantalizingly close to Charles.

He was struck by the forwardness, never quite seeing him put on a charm like this. “Arthur, are you  _ sure _ you didn’t drink any moonshine?”

Feigning shock, he said, “Why,  _ Charles, _ would you take me for someone who’s unprofessional?”

Charles chuckled. “Never has your  _ professionalism _ come into consideration before now.”

With a smile, he asked him, “Want a drag?” He held out the cigarette.

He slung his gun over his shoulder. “Sure.”

Arthur passed it to him. It was only then that Charles got a look at what he was wearing. “Glad to see you dressed up for me.”

Arthur scoffed, pulling up his union suit sleeves. It was getting hot for him. “You know I love to put on airs.” 

Charles rolled his eyes, exhaling. “You sure do.”

“I just--” he took the cigarette back from Charles, “--I went down to get cleaned up an’ I wanted to see how you were doin’.”

“Well, I’m here.” He rested against the tree, looking over at Arthur with dark eyes.

As Arthur was about to take another drag of his cigarette, he remembered something from years and years ago. When it was just him, Dutch, and Hosea. They were fresh off the take of a stagecoach robbery, hiding out in a podunk town that could have literally only had one horse in it. Dutch, as usual, wanted to go to the saloon. This was only a few months after Arthur’s frankly embarrassing display of virility, so he wasn’t too keen on going. Hosea insisted for Arthur to stick around them, the parental instinct kicking in. 

And so Arthur sat in the corner, nursing his half pint, watching Dutch and Hosea mingle. Eventually, a woman got their attention. She stood between them, her arms wrapped around their waists at the bar. Arthur could tell that Dutch was spinning his extravagant tales, with Hosea providing supporting anecdotes of their travels. The woman seemed to find it all intoxicating, bringing them in closer. 

Dutch lit a cigarette, inhaled slightly, and brought his lips close to the woman’s. He exhaled, passing the smoke to her open mouth. She turned her head slightly, grabbing Hosea’s face and breathing out the smoke into his lips. Dutch started to kiss at the woman’s neck as Hosea finally exhaled the puff of smoke into the already hazy bar. To Arthur, even just watching this scene was too much for him, too... _ intimate _ , almost. He left his barely-touched beer at the table, making his way out the back of the saloon. He breathed in the freshness of the night air and exhaled, watching his breath dissipate. 

“Arthur?” Charles asked. 

Arthur blinked a few times, the cigarette burning down in his hand. “Sorry, sorry.” He looked down at the slowly burning ember. “Can I--can I try somethin’ with you?”

“‘Try something,’” he repeated, sounding cautious. “What is it?”

“Somethin’ I saw Dutch do a long time ago.”

“Mm.” Charles looked behind him at the camp. “Not exactly enticing.”

“Jus’ trust me?” He asked, a little pathetically, hand shaking as he brought the cigarette to his mouth. He took a drag, just a small pull. He motioned for Charles to come closer, lips closed. Charles, a little unsure of all of this, still moved closer. Arthur gently tilted Charles’ mouth upwards, passing the smoke to his mouth. He heard a small inhale from him as he took the smoke. Their lips pressed together, if only for a moment, before Charles exhaled the smoke. Just to annoy Arthur, he blew out a perfect smoke ring.

Instead of irritation, the maneuver was met with a laugh. He stubbed out the cigarette against the tree. “M’sorry if you didn’t like it, I just--”

Charles grabbed Arthur by the collar of his half buttoned union suit, pushing him back in for a kiss. The taste of smoke was still on their tongues as they kissed wantonly under the moonlight. The way they kissed, it felt as if they’d always been kissing like this. Like Arthur had never known a life where he  _ wasn’t _ kissing Charles. Arthur settled more into this incredibly welcome feeling, hands roaming all over Charles’ broad torso. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so careless, so unconcerned with who would find them tangled up like this. Feeling almost emboldened by that thought, he shoved Charles against the tree. The leaves ruffled slightly with the move. Finally giving into the feeling he’d neglected for so long, he rocked his hips against Charles’. Through the thin fabric of his underwear, he could tell that Charles was just as ready as well. It wasn’t enough, nothing was enough in this moment, and yet he could live off of this anticipation forever--

“ _ Wait. _ ” Charles said sternly, pulling Arthur away by slightly. He looked behind him, away from the camp. There was a pause, listening to the rustle of the trees. Chalking it up to wind, Arthur pushed his way back against him, kissing at his neck. 

“I don’t think I can wait any longer,” he responded lowly, lightly biting Charles’ neck. He pushed him away again. 

“No, I’m serious. _Listen_.” He placed a firm hand in the center of Arthur’s chest.

Arthur grabbed the lantern, holding it up to the dark forest. “Who’s there!” He called out, his mind focusing on his surroundings once again. He busied his other hand with buttoning up his union suit.   


“Show yourself!” Charles yelled. He pulled out his revolver from his holster. “You have a gun?”    
  
Arthur motioned to his outfit. “No, where in the hell would I even--”

Charles wordlessly passed him his rifle, then crept out into the woods. 

They heard footprints. More rustling. “Could be Lemoyne Raiders.” Arthur muttered, “Might’ve followed Hosea an’ I back here.”

“Only one way to find out.” Charles whispered.

“If only it weren’t so damn dark--” More footprints. They sounded close.

“Show yourself, or I will shoot you!”

A small figure came out from one of the bushes. It was Jack.

“Jack,” Arthur sighed in relief, slinging the rifle over his shoulder. “What are you doing out so late?”

“I can’t find Cain.” He said, his voice raspy from sleep. He wiped away the tears from his cheeks. “He was sleeping next to me when I went to bed, but when I woke up, he was gone!” He started to tear up again. 

Charles knelt down, placing a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Did you see him go this way?” 

“I thought I did…” He rubbed his eyes, looking back out into the darkness. 

“Well don’t worry, Jack.” Arthur knelt down as well, holding out his arms. “Charles and I will find him.”

“We will?” Charles asked, surprised by Arthur’s optimism. Arthur shot him a look. “I mean. Of course we will, Jack.”

Arthur picked Jack up, groaning a little. “You’re gettin’ too big for me to carry you! Stop growin’ so fast!”

“I can’t help it!” Jack smiled despite the tears still on his face.

“I know, I know. Soon enough you’ll be as tall as your dad.” He propped him up, walking back to camp. “Let’s get back to your mom. She’ll be worried sick if she sees you ain’t next to her.”

As Arthur walked back, he asked, “You didn’t uh, you didn’t see anything, did ya?”

Jack gave him a look. “What do you mean?”

“Ah, nothin’.” Arthur sighed. The last thing he’d want to do is have Jack see something he wasn’t supposed to. 

“Uncle Arthur, why are you only wearing your underwear?”

Arthur laughed a little. “I just wanted to say good night to Charles before going off to bed, s’all.”

“Oh.” He paused. “Is Charles your best friend?”

“He’s a good friend.”

“Cain’s my best friend.” He said softly, starting to get somber again. 

“Now Jack, don’t you worry.” They arrived at the tent. Abigail was still sleeping soundly. “We’ll find your best friend before the sun rises, okay?” He set Jack down onto his bed, letting him get comfortable. 

“Okay,” he responded sleepily. Arthur pulled a thin blanket over him, tucking him in.    
  
“Good night, Jack.”

“Night Uncle Arthur.” He drifted off to sleep soundly.

As Arthur walked back to Charles, he couldn’t decide whether or not to put on some boots. He waved off the thought, going back to find Cain.

Charles was whistling out in the woods. “Cain! Cain!”

“Does he even know when he’s bein’ called?” Arthur asked, stepping through the brush. 

“Isn’t that a dog’s instinct?”

Arthur shrugged. “My dog used to ignore me if he knew he was gettin’ into something he shouldn’t.”

“Oh yeah?” Charles smirked, throwing a glance over to Arthur. “I can’t imagine you were especially strict on him.”

“Didn’t have to be. He only acted up when he didn’t want to leave a swimming hole.”

Charles thought of Arthur and his old dog copper splashing about in the lake. It was quite an image. 

“Cain!  _ Cain!” _ Arthur yelled, voice echoing through the trees. 

“Keep your voice down.” Charles chastised.    
  
“How else am I supposed to look for a lost dog?”

“Keep an eye out for tracks.” He said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Fine, fine.” Arthur honed in on looking for fresh prints in the mud. 

“You’re good with Jack.” Charles remarked.

“Someone’s gotta be,” he muttered, barely loud enough for Charles to hear.

“Abigail seems like a fine--”

“Weren’t talkin’ ‘bout Abigail.” He paused, thinking if he should tell him. “I’m good with Jack ‘cause...I kind of helped raise him for a year.”

Charles stopped in his tracks, watching Arthur go on ahead. “You did?”

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, the humidity making it damp. “Yeah. Well -- ‘member when John left for a year?”

Although Charles wasn’t in the gang at the time, he’d heard enough gossip from the other camp members that it was like he  _ was _ there when it happened. “Yeah.”

“Well, when John left, Jack was jus’ a little thing--” He held out his hands to show how small he was, around the size of a loaf of bread. “An’ Abigail knew my experience, with--” he cleared his throat, “--with John, so I helped out in any way I could.”

Charles latched onto that phrasing. “In ‘any way you could,’ huh?”

Arthur shook his head. “It weren’t like that.” He stopped, as if to think over if anything happened between him and Abigail. “I mean, I slept with her a few times--” He stopped, starting over. “I mean I slept in the same bed as her. She jus’ needed comfort, or a warm body. Somethin’.”

Charles smiled. “You’re good at that.”

“I dunno about  _ good _ \--” 

They heard rustling. Some gnashing of jowls. 

“Cain!” Charles called out, going to the source of the noise. He saw bloody tracks leading up to a bush.

Arthur feared the worst. “No, no,  _ no _ \--”

Instead, it seemed that Cain wanted a midnight snack. He was gnawing on the bones of a fresh rabbit carcass.    
  
The two men looked at each other, relieved. “C’mon, Cain, let’s get you back.”

As Cain hopped up and walked back to camp, rabbit’s foot in his mouth, Arthur looked back at Charles. “You still gonna stand watch?”

“I am.”

Arthur looked to Cain, dutifully making his way through the forest.

“About the smoking and, and the kiss earlier--”

“I swear, if you’re going to apologize--”

“M’not.” He stepped closer to Charles, pressing his lips to his. A quick kiss where both of them yearned for the feeling again after it was done. “Nothin’ like that.”

“What is it, then?”

Arthur’s eyes darted to Charles’ lips, then back up again. “You on watch tomorrow?”

“For the rest of this week.”

Arthur gave a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, then.” He turned before Charles grabbed his wrist, spinning him back around for one last kiss. 

“You will,” Charles whispered after breaking the kiss. He gave Arthur a light shove away from him, trying to keep him on his toes. 

It seemed to work, with Arthur goofily tripping over himself as he walked back to camp. He even did his silly finger gun point before turning around completely.

As Charles walked to his post, he rubbed at his lips, longing for the feeling of Arthur’s on his again.


End file.
